


A Last Request

by GrumpyJenn



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: AU as of Time of the Doctor, Character Regeneration, Friendship, Spoilers, unknown canonicity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyJenn/pseuds/GrumpyJenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To join his River Song, the Eleventh Doctor enlists some help from an old friend...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Last Request

**Author's Note:**

  * For [savvyliterate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvyliterate/gifts), [Kehwie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kehwie/gifts).



“Jack, I need your help.”

The kid had been following Jack around all day, and a couple times he’d started toward the immortal, then apparently changed his mind and turned around again. His behaviour - and his age - reminded Jack of Ianto, and of how Jack and Ianto had met, with the young man nearly stalking him. He didn’t _want_ to be reminded of Ianto. After the 4-5-6, and then again after his time as the Miracle, Jack was pretty much done with anything more complicated than the occasional Weevil infestation. But here was this kid, couldn’t be more than about thirty years old, stalking him, and now asking for his help?

Jack just spun and slammed the speaker against the stone wall, and only then did he take a good look. The young man _looked_ thirty. Maybe even twenty-five.

Until you saw his eyes. They were hazel, almost browless, and deep-set. And unutterably sad, eyes that spoke of an ancient, unspeakable pain and grief and horror. He’d seen eyes like those before. Once a pale ice-blue, once so dark a brown they were almost black, but with the same expression in them, as though one could fall into them forever.

If one could bear the pain.

“Doctor…?” Jack breathed it, and stepped back, letting the young (looking) man go.

The hazel eyes crinkled at the corners, and long-fingered hands wiggled in a little wave. “Captain.”

“I…” _God, what to say? So much water under the bridge since the last time, and_ … Jack took a closer look, noticed the fine lines, the pale face. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For,” began Jack, and stopped. How was it that the Doctor always made him feel like an inexperienced buffoon? He was over 2,000 years old, after all and… he realised the Doctor was waiting for a response. Maybe he still hadn’t forgiven Jack for... “About the 4-5-6.”

“Oh,” said the Doctor, looking lost for just a moment, and then he put a hand up and patted Jack on the shoulder. The touch was tentative, and the Doctor flinched away just slightly, but then relaxed. “You did the best you could, Jack,” he said quietly. “I’ve done worse.” Jack swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “Right, well…” the Doctor said, “As I said, I need your help.”

Jack put on his best smile, and watched the Doctor relax further. “Renegade Time Lord? Daleks? Slitheen?”

“My wife.” The Doctor ducked his head, looking suddenly, adorably shy.

“Your… wife?” _Your what?_ shouted Jack’s mind, _I always thought you were sort of… asexual, or shy, or_ hell _, even hung up on the Master or… your what? Wife!?_

The Doctor nodded earnestly, brown hair flopping into his face. “She’s… stuck,” he said, “And it’s my fault. Sort of. Bit of a mess really.” _Lord, but this regeneration is cute,_ Jack thought. _Like a floppy, clumsy puppy with ears as big as his head_

“I’m not saying no, Doc, but well… why _me_?”

“You’re the only one who can. Because you’re…” the Doctor waved his arms around. “Well, because you’re _you_.” He scratched his cheek. “All… back-to-lifey,” he said lamely, scratching the top of his head. “And timey-wimey.”

Jack pouted, then grinned. “Not sexy-wexy?” he asked archly, and watched the doctor actually _blush_.

“Yes, right, well--” started the Doctor, but broke off as a short and curvy brunette dressed in red ran up, panting slightly.

“Oi!” Her accent was Northern, and her tone exasperated. “Didn’t we talk about this? ‘Don’t wander off’ runs both ways!”

Jack stuck out a hand. “Captain Jack Harkness,” he said, smiling down at her, “Pleased to meet you, Miss…?” _Because surely this isn’t his wife_ , he thought, bemused. _She’s too… cute._

She barely glanced at him, continuing to scold the Doctor.

Worse yet, the Doctor didn’t tell him to stop flirting. Jack realised in that moment that he’d missed it, even though it was one of those things that made him feel stupid. Maybe he’d lost his touch.

The little brunette wound down and looked up at him. “Right then,” she said briskly, “You’re the bloke I’ve heard about then? The one who can’t stay dead?” At Jack’s bemused nod, she held out a hand. “I’m Clara. I keep him out of trouble… as best I can.” She jerked her head at the Doctor, who was scratching perplexedly at various parts of his face and head.

“You don’t look like his type,” began Jack, and the girl - Clara - laughed.

“Oh, I’m not. And he’s not mine. I’m just his--”

“The woman born to save the Doctor,” the Doctor himself said, “And that’s a long story. I’ll let her tell you after we…” He gulped a bit and Clara patted his hand. “After you leave me in the Library hard drive and take the twelfth me back to the TARDIS.”

 _What? Leave you to regenerate, is that it? I..._ “Wait,” said Jack, trying to remain calm. “Can we talk about this? You’re talking casually about me leaving you to _die_ somewhere and then bringing your regenerated body back to earth with me? That’s a little odd, Doc, even for you.”

“Not so much,” Clara muttered under her breath, then turned to look at the Doctor. “You,” she said, waving him away. “Go… tinker with the console or whatever it is you do. I’ll explain it to him.” Her voice softened. “Go on, Doctor.” She gave him a crooked little smile, and pushed him gently in the general direction of the wharf.

He went.

“Now then,” said Clara, “Let me tell you a story.” She grabbed Jack’s hand and tugged until he came along with her to a cafe, bought him a cuppa, and settled into a cosy corner, tucking her legs under her. She told him a story that was amazing even by his standards, of time travel and love and loss, and by the time she finished Jack felt wrung out, emotionally numb. Not in a bad way like after Owen and Tosh, just… exhausted.

“Okay,” he said heavily. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” Clara nodded encouragingly. “The Doctor and his wife - do I call her River or Melody?” At Clara’s shrug he continued. “They live sort of backward to each other, and she died the day he met her. He’s worked up a way to join her in the database where he’s put her… soul, I guess, but it’ll kill him and he needs me to get his newly-regenerated body out of the Library before the baddies get us.”

Clara sighed. “About sums it right up, yeah. You gonna help him?”

“How do you feel about it, Clara? His little whims can really hurt the humans he’s with.”

She sighed again, deeper this time. “He loves her,” she said simply, like it was the only thing that mattered. _Maybe,_ Jack reflected, _it really is. If he loves this River Song…_

“And he _told_ you that?” _He never says stuff like that… or his previous selves didn’t. Not even during the Year That Never Was._

“Bits of it,” she said. “The rest the TARDIS told me - or showed me, I guess - once she figured out I meant him no harm.”

“Let’s do it.”

 

\--/--

 

The Doctor’s reaction was completely worth it; he stammered out thanks in a way so utterly unlike the previous incarnations of him that Jack had known, and yet so intrinsically _Doctor_ , that Jack felt… proud of himself. Like he had accomplished something important, something real.

Something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

And it got better. The TARDIS was different inside, and now that Jack wasn’t beelining for the Doctor to confirm his plans, he took a good look around. “Is it my imagination or is your old girl a little more streamlined than she used to be?” The Time Rotor whooshed as she dematerialised, and Jack felt a grin beginning. _Like the good old days_ , he thought, _with the TARDIS and Rose and the Doctor. When I was young._

“She is,” the Doctor was saying, “And since she decided Clara’s alright, she’s fun to be with again, aren’t you, you sexy thing?” Something on the console made a _ping_ , and an envelope in TARDIS blue popped out and went _splat_ on the glass floor. Clara picked it up and read it, her big brown eyes growing wide.

“Jack,” she said, holding it out to him, “I think this is meant for you.”

He took it, and felt his own eyes widen at the address. _Captain Jack Harkness_ , it read, _with love from Professor River Song_ “Well, this is interesting,” he said, and passed it to the Doctor.

The Time Lord flipped out his sonic screwdriver and scanned it. “Authentic,” he said shortly, and when he handed the envelope back to Jack, the immortal saw tears in the hazel eyes. The Doctor muttered something that sounded like ‘humany’ and smiled. _I know that smile,_ thought Jack, _it’s the one you use when what you’re feeling is too painful to express._ He sighed and slit the envelope open with a fingernail.

 _Dear Captain Harkness,_ it read,

_That’s far too formal, given what you’ve done / will do for me and my love. So… Jack. I thank you from the bottom of my hearts for what you are about to do, and I want to tell you how sorry I am._

_You’ve never met me, but I’ve met you, when I wore a different face and a different name. I saw what you had to do to defeat them, and unlike my peers, I understood it. You had no choice, darling Jack, not really. And on this day, this special, blessed day, because of who and what you are, today everybody lives._

_Everybody lives, but no-one remains unscathed. This will hurt you, Jack, and I can’t tell you more because of spoilers. Just please,_ please _remember that he is not who he appears to be after today. And that he_ does _love you. They both do, him and his old girl._

_Both his old girls._

_River Song_

Jack’s voice cracked as he read the signature aloud, and the Doctor had long since slumped into a jump seat and buried his face in his hands.

“‘Everybody lives,” the Doctor finally said in a low tone, and then sprang to his feet. “Right then! Jack, will you…?” he gestured at a contraption leaning gingerly against the console.

“If I read that right,” said Jack, “I already have. Will. Whatever.”

The Doctor shook his head. “Time can be rewritten. You have done it, but you may yet not, and… and English hasn’t the tenses for it.” He seemed to be recovering from the effect of the letter, but spoke distantly, as if distracted.

“What do I do?” Clara hefted the contraption in surprisingly strong little hands and gave it to him.

“He showed me, in case we couldn’t get you to do it,” she said softly. “He wants it that much, and he trusts me.” She took his hand and placed it around the grip. “You’ll have to…” she trailed off and shivered. “You’ll have to shoot him. This lead goes to the machine in the Library, and this one, it’s like a taser. That transfers his--” This time Clara broke off entirely and the Doctor looked up.

“What? Oh.” He patted Clara on the shoulder awkwardly, and she flung her arms around him. “Come on now, Impossible Girl,” he said in a kind tone. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I can’t help it.” Clara sniffled. “I’m meant to save you, not to help you die!”

“Impossible Clara.” The Doctor’s voice was warm, affectionate, and Jack remembered when the same man two regenerations ago used to speak to him that way. The Time Lord bent and kissed the young woman on the forehead. “You _have_ saved me. Over and over again, and by doing this you are saving me forever and always. And Jack.” He released Clara and turned to the immortal, “You have saved me too. You kept me sane, more than once - well, as sane as I ever get.”

Jack had to clear his throat. “Any time, Doc. ‘You are worth fighting for.’”

“And you. And I am sorry - _so_ sorry--” The Doctor grinned as he imitated his former self, and grabbed Jack by the ears, giving him a smacking kiss on the mouth. “--That I didn’t tell you that years ago.”

“Better late than never, Doctor.”

“Pssht,” the Doctor scoffed. “I’m a Time Lord. ‘Late’ is a concept embraced by linear minds… ‘you stupid ape.” The air quotes made it clear he was teasing Jack, but then he grew serious again. _And here I thought the last one was mercuria_ l, Jack thought.

And then the TARDIS landed, bonged her bell once, and opened her doors.

 

\--/--

 

What happened next Jack could not remember clearly afterward; it was a series of impressions rather than a progression of events. He did recall thinking at one point that it was only fitting that the end of a Time Lord’s given regeneration should be non-linear...

The Doctor, sitting bound in a metal chair, calmly smiling through his young-old eyes as Jack wired him up to the database.

The shock transmitted through the handle of the - what had the Doctor called it? - Ah, yes, the Consciousness Transference Facilitator (“Spirit Raygun of Doom,” Jack had said, and the Doctor had smiled.)

The little screen and speaker that the Doctor had included on the device, the look of dawning hope on River Song’s face, and the break in the Doctor’s voice as he said, “Hi honey. I’m home.”

The sound of Clara’s gasp from the open door of the TARDIS, and the tears streaming over the wide smile she wore when he turned to look.

The feeling of utter shock and horror when Jack realised why River had warned him to remember - _please_ remember - that the man before him was the Doctor. And not John Frobisher.

The abject terror when the lights started to go out and he couldn’t get the new regeneration loose from the metal chair. Along with the wild momentary desire to just _leave_ him to the Vashta Nerada.

The fleeting thought that they had been right to call him; Clara could not possibly have done this on her own. Not the literal heavy lifting required for this. She was worth fighting for too.

And the letter. _Oh_ , the letter, before they even made it back to Earth. Jack had supposed that River and the Doctor sent it before the TARDIS even left the Library, because for them, time was no object.

Not anymore.

  _Jack,_ it began, and then it rambled, as though spoken rather than written.

 _I am so, so sorry, Jack, I didn’t know the twelfth me looked like the man who… you know. I modelled that me in the image of a Roman - well, a Pompeiian, do we call them Pompeiians? Pompeiites? I_ am _in the biggest Library ever, I suppose I could look it up. Right, well, in any case, I modelled that me after this er… man from Pompeii, on Volcano Day. Donna - Donna Noble, do you remember her? Ginger, was part Time Lady before I had to… right. Donna begged me to save them, him and his family, and he just seemed like a more distinguished looking sort of a bloke than_ this _me. River says I look like a twelve-year-old and honestly, I’d say I look at least twenty, and… all_ right _, River!_

 _River wants me to get to the point. Which is that I am so sorry that my new face might hurt you. I never_ meant _to hurt you, not even before. At any rate, Jack, stay with that me, if you can bear it, at least until the regeneration sickness is over. Clara shouldn’t have to handle that alone._

_The Doctor_

_PS: What my love is trying to say, Jack, is thank you. Thank you so_ _much. We love you._

_River Song_

Jack passed the paper to Clara, but she waved it away, and after a moment, he realised why.

She was already focussed on saving the Doctor.

 


End file.
